All Chapters of Married To The Wrong Brother: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Neither of them noticed how loud they were getting. Or maybe they did, and fear made them louder anyway.The man with the damaged eye shifted again, testing the restraints like he could still overpower them. The chair rocked an inch before slamming back down. The movement seemed to send pain through him. His jaw tightened so hard I could see the muscle jump beneath bruised skin.“We just move them,” Pompano pleaded now, slower, like he was trying to reason with fate itself. “We don’t choose who gets listed. We don’t handle the auctions. We just transfer inventory. If we’d known she was claimed –”He stopped abruptly. And it looked like it was because whoever stood in front of them.There.Claimed.My fingers dug into the brick.They were talking about me.“You operate on Pier Forty-Two,” another voice toned in from the dark. “You rotate drivers every three weeks using hospitality vans… ah! With tinted windows. Airports make good hunting grounds. No one really questions movement there.

I exhaled sharply and answered the call, turning at an angle away from the worthless body tied to the chair.“This better justify the interruption, Gerald.”There was the faint shuffle of something on the other end.“Sir, I assure you, I do not call during live interrogations for recreational purposes.”“You have exactly five seconds to impress me.”“I retrieved the surveillance footage as requested. The airport tail assigned by Ms. Vale lost visual contact for approximately ninety seconds.”My jaw tightened. “Ninety,” I repeated flatly.“Yes, sir.”I sucked my teeth briefly. Being in one place was dangerous for me. It always has been. The restless current beneath my skin would begin itching to make an appearance. Falcon had called it a disorder, but to be me, it was a liability. And liabilities can be avoided, if not scrubbed off completely.If I wasn’t negotiating defense contracts in Geneva or restructuring supply chains for DL Defense, then I was sitting through briefings on emba

She had grown into her body, no longer fragile in frame or the shrinking silhouette she used to be. Though, the timidness hadn’t disappeared. Despite her maddening size, there was a stubbornness in the way she tilted her head and the slight strain in her fists under the cover. The wind teased the thin curtain loose, tugging my gaze from her for a heartbeat. The fabric fluttered, pale as smoke, and I traced the way it moved.Nobody had ever truly occupied this room. Despite designing three master’s bedrooms in this partitioned wing – connected to the hotel annex, yet entirely mine – it had remained empty. Friends had stayed briefly, if they could even be called friends, but even they preferred the predictability of the hotel suite instead of the lack of intimacy that came with this space.I had prepared this room once for Rosalia’s sister, anticipating her need for a secluded, tranquil refuge and, admittedly, to create distance between us. But plans had changed.My eyes returned to h

Lauren’s eyebrow lifted. “So forcing me to wear something I might not even like is what Vincenzo considers freedom?” She laughed then. Not mockingly, more like she had expected that reaction. “Oh dear,” she said, shaking her head lightly. “Yes, that does sound like him.” I raised a brow. “And what does that mean?” I heaved a deep sigh, sinking into the yellow couch by the corner of the closet. “He’s very… decisive.” “That’s a polite way of putting it,” Lauren replied with a small smile. “Mr. Enzo believes structure prevents mistakes. If he gives an instruction, it’s usually because he’s already considered the consequences of not giving one, and is absolutely convinced he’s doing the right thing.” “So I’m a consequence waiting to happen?” Lauren tilted her head. “I think you’re someone he’s trying to protect.” I didn’t answer that, and Lauren, mercifully, changed the subject. She stepped further into the room, and her tone brightened. “We’ll be visiting a stylist soon anyway

I pushed open the door to my office, the space vast enough to swallow most egos whole. High ceilings, walls lined with rare art, a desk that could host a small council of kings. The young man stood abruptly, with a straight posture like he was the natural heir to everything I had earned before I’d earned it. Dark suit, designer cut. Confidence dripping from him as if he had personally negotiated peace in the Middle East. I blinked once. Humorous, in a revolting way.“Mr. Enzo,” he said smoothly. “Thank you for seeing me.”Luigi Galvani. Son of Louis Galvani, first cousin twice removed from Rocco, nephew of Alessandro aka Don De Laurentiis.I nodded, my eyes running from head to toe, slow enough to make him squirm under the scrutiny. His hair was neatly combed, and had steady eyes. “Have a seat,” I gestured.He faltered a fraction, then smoothed it over with a faint, entitled smile before lowering himself into the chair across from me. “Luigi, your résumé is impressive,” I said, s